Ring Around the Rosie
by Fluttering Phalanges
Summary: Drabbles and ficlets in which Beth and Daryl have children. Prompts appreciated and accepted! Can be in Zombie Verse or any verse you choose. Let's give Bethyl the family they deserve!
1. Prompt One

**Drabbles for bethyl!baby prompts! Feel free to send them in! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated!**

**Prompt One: Beth gives birth to a son with Daryl's assistance while reflecting on her past**

The world is a different place than it once was. She knows that. Despite how she wishes she were still naive. Still locked back at the farm, her father and sister both alive, she knows that such will never occur again.

There's fear in the air, the smell musk and sweltering, as she lies reclined in a bed of hay. Her fingers quiver, digging into the flesh of his palm as he murmurs whatever damn words of encouragement he can think of. She knows he's trying his best, but it still hurts like hell.

"I can't," she pants, the pain crippling as it comes wave after wave, riddling her body incapacitated. "I can't!"

"That ain't the Beth I know," he coaches, not pulling his hand back as her nails dig into his skin, cutting the sensitive layer. "Keep goin'. You're so close. So close."

So close. She remembers her father uttering those words as their cow, Bessie, lay heaving on the ground, the feet of her offspring extended from underneath her tail. The long night he spent out there, coaching and watching the animal deliver its young. It seemed so primitive then, but now here she was. The situation so similar in many ways.

"Daryl," she whimpers, gasping as another contraction rips through her muscles, contorting them into unrecognizable shapes. "Make it stop!"

"You're doin' so good," he murmured, his mouth pressed to her sweaty forhead. "Kid's almost here."

She can feel its body as it slips from her, Daryl's hand leaving her side as he goes to catch the squirming being before it has a chance to touch the sacred ground. It writhes, coughing as its wet, bloody form whines and curses from its father's hands. Frightened and angry at the cold world it has entered.

"A boy," Daryl laughs, his voice filled with exhaustion. "It's a boy!"

She can feel the tears spilling down her cheeks as he gingerly places him on her chest. He looks up at her, head squashed, eyes too large for his face. He's so beautiful. The most beautiful creature she's ever seen in the world. And of everything she thinks and wishes she can tell him, all she can utter is one word.

"Hello," she whispers, fingers caressing the thick, dark mess of hair on the tiny head.

"Pulled through it, Half Pint," croons the archer. "He's a Dixon for sure."

She smiles, genuinely for the first time in a long time. And unlike most days, faith really did seem to be here. Right in this moment. Nestled in hay and bare breast. He nurses, eyes closed as his wet skin heats her own. This is happiness. He was hope.


	2. Prompt Two

**Prompt Two: Daryl accidentally teaches their daughter a new word...much to his dismay. (Submitted by Maykits)**

"Shit!"

At first, Daryl Dixon wasn't sure if he had heard her right. He hadn't wanted to hear her right. But there sat Rosie, her blocks scattered across the floor as she beamed up at him with the same smile she shared with her mother. Her dark brown curls splayed across her forehead as she knocked a wooden square towards him. He watched as it tumbled, the toddler's eyes following it before it gently touched his shoe.

"Shit!"

"No," the father said quickly. "We ain't gonna start those words. Alright, Rosie? Mama ain't gonna be too happy if you go around sayin' stuff like that."

He wasn't that good at scolding, how could he be? The kid was so damn cute that it made it hard to say anything negative to her. At the moment of her birth, she had him wrapped around her pudgy, tiny finger. Rosie's mouth curled into a wider smile as she giggled, blue eyes wide in pleasure as she began to stack her blocks once more. Daryl settled down on the floor in front of her, hoping that last time had been the final uttering of that word.

"Can I help?" He inquired, eyes fixated on the lopsided tower.

"Nope." And she handed him a block.

"Want me to put it on top?"

"Nope!" And she nodded her head in agreement.

Nope had become her new favorite word, despite her still needing to learn how to use it right. Well, that and apparently the _other_ word she had begun to spout. Daryl heard the door open and close behind him as he gingerly placed the wooden block on top of the teetering structure. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Beth had gone grocery shopping, or whatever the hell you wanted to call getting the weekly rations from the Alexandria safe zone.

"We got pasta sauce," he heard her say as she approached from behind. "We can thank Rick for that."

"I'll tell 'em tomorrow," Daryl mumbled, eyes still fixated on the little girl. "We're buildin' a tower."

"Tower," Rosie agreed, looking to her mother with a wide smile. "Play?"

"I don't see why not," Beth smiled, setting the bag of food down as she knelt beside her child. "Havin' fun with Daddy?"

"Nope," the girl giggled, nodding her head. "Love Daddy."

"I love him too," the mother replied, smirking at her husband from across the tower. "What can I-oops!"

Accidentally, Beth's hand knocked against the already unstable structure. With a soft thud, the blocks spilled across the floor, Daryl stiffening as he watched the destruction happen. Rosie's mouth curved into a playful smile as she watched her building fall, chubby hands clapping together in amusement as the pieces tumbled to and fro, knocking against various parts of the furniture.

"Shit!"

Beth's expression suddenly morphed into one of surprise, her eyes immediately locking on her sheepish husband. "Daryl Dixon..."

"Shit," Rosie concluded.

And Daryl couldn't put the response any better himself.


	3. Prompt Three

**Prompt three: Merle finds out Daryl is a father whilst running into him and Maggie when they are baby food hunting. (Submitted by TimeRose)**

The little boy gazed up at the stranger with wonder filled eyes, one pudgy hand gripping the grime covered wife-beater the man wore. Merle Dixon gazed down at his nephew in equal curiosity, the boy already sporting the dark eyes he shared with his brother. Strangely, the baby cracked a smile, cooing at the firm faced man as he shifted the infant in his good arm, fearful for the first time in his life that he'd accidentally harm the being.

_"Well would you lookie here!"_

_Daryl and Maggie stopped in their tracks, a sense of panic finding the archer at the sound of the voice. He knew it well enough. He had for years. Slowly turning, a jar of tomato paste baby food gripped between his dirty fingers as he came face to face with the one armed man he called 'brother'. Merle grinned, the same heartless smile that plagued the man's face for years as he took a step forward._

_"What?" He mused, looking from Daryl to Maggie. "No hellos or hugs?"  
><em>

"Why's he makin' that face?" Merle questioned, his eyes darting over to Beth who watched from nearby. "He sick or somethin'?"

"He's just smilin' at you," she grinned. "Means he likes you."

The corners of Merle's mouth twisted into a soft frown as he looked down at his nephew once more. The infant's smile broadened, one hand reaching up towards the man's face. Merle leaned away, almost uncertain of what to really make of the baby. Beth merely shook her head, her smile still present as she stepped forward. Gingerly, she touched the blond wisps of hair on top of the child's head.

"You won't hurt him," she assured her partner's brother. "He's just curious."

_"Ya'll lost your tongues or somethin'?" Merle asked, moving closer to the pair. "What the hell ya'll doin' here? Small world for coincidences." _

_The man's eyes fell to the jar of baby food in his brother's hand. His expression of amusement changed to one of slight confusion. Merle Dixon was not someone who was easily surprised. As he lifted his gaze, meeting the unfriendly stare from his brother, he already knew the answer before his kin spoke. He swallowed, his phantom limb aching as his mouth become unusual dry. _

_"A baby?"_

_"Why does it matter to you?" Daryl grumbled. "Ain't like you care or nothin'."_

_"You? A father?" The mocking smile returned to Merle's face. "Well shit. So Dad lives on!"_

_He didn't see Daryl's fist before it collided with his jaw. _

"What'd you say his name was again?" Merle muttered, unable to pull his eyes away from the child.

"Henry," Beth stated, gingerly stroking her son's head. "His name is Henry."

Both heads turned at the sound of someone approaching from the hall. Daryl walked in, his face emotionless as he adjusted the bow on his shoulder. He walked over to Beth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, eyes never leaving his brother's before his attention turned to his son.

"Missed ya, buddy," he mumbled, touching the boy's hand. "You been good?"

"Very good," Beth confirmed. "He's been havin' fun with Uncle Merle."

Daryl didn't smile, only nod as Beth pressed a second kiss to his cheek. She smiled, looking at the two brothers before taking a few steps back. She had to check with Rick and see whose shift it was to do dinner tonight. Her father had suggested spaghetti after Daryl and Maggie managed to find a few boxes whilst on their run. It was something she hadn't had in years and welcomed the missed Italian classic gratefully. As she left, the archer turned to his brother, clearly uneasy at the other man holding his child.

"Listen..." Merle began, seemingly struggling with his words. "I ain't...what happened back there...I ain't mean..."

"It's fine," Daryl cut him off. "What's in the past is in the past. Ain't much to say after that."

Merle nodded, his eyes following to his now sleepy nephew. "He's cute."

"Yeah," the bowman agreed. "He is."

The elder Dixon exhaled, mouth twitching into a small smile as the baby's grasp around his shirt loosened, the child slowly falling asleep. He may not be well liked as a man, hadn't been even before the outbreak, but maybe this could be his chance to change. His eyes focused on Henry, watching as the young boy drifted off into unconsciousness. He could be the man he never was to Henry. From now on, the past was in the past and he vowed silently to himself to make sure that his nephew saw that.


End file.
